


dead man walking

by ruruka



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Kind of smut, Kissing, M/M, based on that heathers song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 15:06:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11255424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruruka/pseuds/ruruka
Summary: thirty hours to live, how shall i spend them?





	dead man walking

the demon queen of high school has decreed it.

they're all going to bite the fuckin bullet.

_"-even suspected me at all?! no one thunked a bombshell blonde with a nice rack could be the mastermind behind a fuckton o' murders?! ahahah-!"_

it's a reflection of sadism, and he hasn't a clue even faint how to rebel it. the game plan in his head draws x's and o's about screaming  _take out the source! burn the hydra's neck! caesar's a snake waiting to hatch!_ , though he really...does not know how to accomplish the task.  _kill the mastermind-_ and how? she must be anticipating some counter strike, anyway. telling six you've plans to slit their throats at sunrise and expecting them not to refuse their fate? not something a crafty bitch like enoshima junko wouldn't account for. for certain a myriad of traps pave the road to her destruction.

_"-doesn't matter what you try, either, loves, since i'll wipe your memories before you've even the chance to recall my name and we'll do this whole ordeal all over again. isn't that just so splendid?!"_

and that had tripped him up in the worst of ways.  _wipe our memories?_  how the hell would she- and why would she- and-

nothing in this place has ever made sense since he'd first woken up in that empty classroom. still…why toy with everyone in such a malicious way; releasing the details of their mortality just to steal away the information with some inhumane kind of memory eraser. his throat is dry against the thought of just how many times she's done this before, how many times he's battled this internal conflict while sauntering these deathly stilled halls in silence.

_"-just so…so…so…sad. i can't imagine such a totally depressing fate… it almost makes me wanna…wanna…CELEBRATE!"_

the hollow echo of her words stings still his bones. it tugs him sick to think he'd rather have already had his brain reset than to deal with this struggle of heart and mind.

_i'm going to die i'm going to die i'm going to d-_

he stops, melts steps to quiet gainst the checkerboard tile. the scarlet overtones of the lights in this corridor along bedroom doors has always felt...warm in a sense.  _and blood is warm too-_ a sharp bite takes on his bottom lip. he allows himself a glance down the rows of doors, so many now housing none, and that in itself is enough to drag cherry-red acrylics down the valves of his heart. the claws dig deeper at a further notion, and he falls spine to wall in the desperation of his uselessness.

_we're all going to die we're all g-_

cheek to paint, dulled greens scan over the door closest to his. little pixels of the living.  _living-_ there's life behind this door, he can hear it feel it sense it, and see it, once he leans a fraction to notice its ajar positioning.

but that...that isn't a dash logical, once he checks the plaque, because there's never been a day in this hellhole that togami had left his door open, as if welcoming others to enter. and he almost  _laughs-_ he doesn't think he's ever before used  _togami_ and  _welcoming_ in the same sentence without their connector being  _isn't the slightest bit fucking_ \- but he can't laugh because nothing's funny at all, nothing's funny and his guts are gelid and he's a vessel for fear alone.

naegi makoto is scared absolutely shitless, and togami byakuya's door is open twenty minutes before nighttime, and it's really nice in there, actually, once he's slipped inside and taken a spiral of eyes over the decor. elaborate paintings, a velvet length of carpet through the center. his table's had a cloth and vase (which he's sure would be pronounced in that pretentious  _vahz_  kind of way) set atop it, and hell, his ceiling lamp's even nicer than others with its fancy little curving design around the lip. and- and it's all pointless, pointless, but naegi's clinging desperately to the fine details of everything before he no longer is permitted to salvage a single thought besides  _what? e-enoshima had a twin-?_

above all, all the class and prissy amenities, he thinks the most attractive piece is the one seated atop the stark satin of comforters, facing opposite the doorway with his face in his hands.

and naegi decides, evidently, to wring all the asininity out of himself before he no longer has the chance; "...togami...are you alright?"

through his mind strolls the image of a puffy-eyed sniffling aristocrat turning timidly to face him and say, soft lips trembling,  _oh, naegi-kun, my soul can only rest by the comforting of a handsome man. please come hold me in your strong arms._

his fantasy, one that reminds him abhorrently close to some fresh  _so lingers the ocean_ material, complies a partial bit to the veracity which follows.

togami  _does_  turn to face him.

the rest is bullshit.

"naegi?" and his expression hasn't the faintest tear stain, mascara drip, or snot bomb, just the tug of brows neatly together and soft lips steady when they morph a frown around a snapping, "what the  _hell_ do you think you're doing in my room?"

_flinch-_ "uh...i-i, um, the door," a thumb jerks toward it, "the door was open and i-"

"and you thought since we are all about to assume room temperature that it's an open invitation to encroach on my personal space?" he rises alongside the words, taking stance on the bed's other side and much closer to the paled intruder. they enter a match of eyes, placidity struck by the tumble of words.

"...so you're thinking about that too."

behind lenses he moves next to adjust, his stare thins. "is it not natural to ponder on one's own mortality? i'm not some sniveling fool _,_ riddled by fear and sorrow over the inevitable." in direct parallel, togami does laugh, cold and harrowing and breathless. "though, more inevitable for the likes of you. some of us needn't accept fate just yet."

"what?" naegi blinks, draws his body to positioned valiancy. "you're planning to take out the mastermind? enoshima?"

his eyes roll, coughing up a half-scoff with a fold to his arms. "i've said from day one that i intend to win this game, naegi. this is just another jaunt on the path to success."

it tugs his gaze downward. the x's and o's are a scrambled mess. "but... _how?"_

"is that truly anyone's business but my own?" glower, snap of eyes met in flame. "i'll answer that for you:  _no._ let us just say, there's not a chance the togami name ends here. not by the pitiful hands of anyone else would i lose all that i am."

naegi basks in the delicious stun of his proclamation. the refusal of death, the hope for the future coursing through his veins. it's inspiring. it's inspiring, it's burning in all the best ways and they'll survive they'll make it out  _we're going to live we're going to live we're going to-!_

"although, you other five haven't the slightest hope of escape," togami goes on, no quirk to his mouth but instead in his smug tone, "and, quite frankly, i couldn't be bothered to care any less."

"oh." downcast go those green eyes in a flicker, then back to the face above, shadows looming in tendrils through the immaculate contours of his neck, jaw, cheekbones. "so..." a pause to wet slow his own lips, "i'm going to die?"

to that white satin again togami places himself. "like the heedless cattle you are."

rather than  _oh_ it is now  _ah._ naegi nods a slow bob, finger to chin in thought. after all, is it not natural to ponder on one's own mortality? and with his own ending so near- what's that deal where death row inmates get a final meal of their choice?

"togami."

the namesake glances up, the lift of brows his cue for allowing further speech.

it comes with a series of forward steps, hands that reach to first touch gentle the faultless creases of suit jacket shoulders, then all at once shove him to his back. "don't scream."

_at least not yet,_ scratches the walls of naegi's mind as he crawls in a placement of himself astride the other's hips. the first kiss is tight with ignorance, no reciprocation in stupefaction. a hook catches his morals a split second that causes him to pull back, hands roaming either curve of the perfect face lain beneath him, golden silks of hair fallen about, narrow eyes not wide with astonishment as naegi would have assumed. in fact- "that works for me."

"huh?" palms goes flat to togami's chest to lift naegi to straight-sitting. "it- you-  _what?"_

he sighs harshly from his nose. "i never thought it would take your imminent demise for you to finally peel away that diffidence restricting you from acting upon your feelings for me. but i suppose now's an appropriate time as any other, considering you'll never again have the opportunity to experience my impeccability."

naegi blinks. awe glows about his expression. "... _huh?"_

his face tightens in rancor. "just fucking kiss me."

and it takes a moment of further stun, but they meet again in hesitance of firework lips. fingers quiver about the hold to his jawline, slipping back through blonde and relishing the pressing, parting, licentious dreamworld he's enveloped in. and he has to wonder, is it one of literal sense? did he wake up in that classroom just as his head hit the pillow? a sharp nip of teeth to his bottom lip tells him this is no dream.

in real life, togami byakuya has some sort of requited lust for him. in real life, togami byakuya is running a hand up his thigh and a tongue over his lips. naegi opens upon that coaxing, and it's hot as hell in this prissy little bedroom where he's frenching his high school crush.

he grinds forward without intention, but all the same delighted. likewise is it a thrill of the hands that grip his ass and squeeze. a loud breath passes betwixt them before mouths fall split and naegi's sitting upright to lose three layers of top coverage. they kiss again, opposite touches melding to opposite chests, the heartbeat neath each a frenzy.

"we're really doing this?" naegi says in minutes chasing, when they've both rid themselves to coverage scant, skin on skin in a blissful harmony of feeling. togami shifts underneath him, eyes him in scrutiny.

"it was  _your_ idea. you aren't going to play the coward now, are you?"

he shakes his head, chest releasing a swallow of exhale. "nope," and he kisses him fresh, "love this dead man walking."

against his lips, the other smirks tautly.


End file.
